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Daily Archives: March 10, 2017

The basic Belizean unit of currency is called a “dollar,” but the $20 bill has a nice picture of a younger Queen Elizabeth on it, rather than Andy Jackson. And if that’s not jarring enough, the dollar coin is a weighty hexagon — also with the Queen’s visage. It would be a cool ball marker on the golf course, but it doesn’t seem like real money, does it?

After a while, you really don’t care. It’s beach money. Call it sand dollars. You’re not taking it back to the states with you, and then trying to exchange it at some midwestern bank branch with a befuddled clerk trying to figure out the “exchange rate.” If you brought it back, it would just end up in that box with the weird change in it, right? So spend it while you can. On your last day of Vay-Kay, head down the beach to that nice bar where the beer was especially cold, and give the barkeep and the cook an especially generous tip. They deserve it!

The goal, ultimately, is to spend every paper and metal scrap of vacation currency before the departure plane leaves the runway.

Last night we went to a seaside bistro that featured a parrot to give the bar area a distinctive, tropical, piratical feel. It was a beautiful bird, large and colorful, with that kind of wise look around the eyes that parrots always seem to have.

I felt sorry for that beautiful bird. I’m sure it would rather be back in its nest in the jungle, but its wings were clipped, and it was confined to its perch with only a dish of peanuts before it. Worst of all, some old guy was constantly in its face, repeating the same annoying whistle, over and over and over again, in hopes that the bird would imitate it.

But the bird didn’t. It squawked and flapped and, I think, tried to ignore the guy. Maybe the bird was just not interested, but I preferred to think that the bird was knowingly refusing to be some cheap entertainment for a boozy codger in a ball cap. I’d like to think that parrots have pride, even in what must seem like parrot purgatory.